


The Alliances

by SkyKingdom



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: As characters show up they’ll get added, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, I’ll try to update as much as possible, Magic AU, this was a bad idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-07 14:02:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyKingdom/pseuds/SkyKingdom
Summary: Magic AU. Arthur Kirkland is an agent to the program to defend those without magic from magical citizens with the power that is so feared. He is deployed in France to stop the rebels and sent to spy on Francis Bonnefoy, a noble suspected of supporting the rebellion. He delves deeper into their causes and realizes the government isn't defending the citizens-only their power.





	1. Strangers

Arthur Kirkland was no stranger to moving around, especially when it came to his job. As one of the current agents in the International Magical Prohibition Program, he was always moving from country to country, trying to stop uprisings against the different governments. It wasn’t that the international law deemed magic illegal, it simply said that only the well-trained were allowed to have magic, and the simple civilian could not use their magic. So many protested, that there were regular fights between the rebels and the agents. The agents were winning this brutal war, and there were few countries who hadn’t instilled complete control over their civilians. 

So here he stood, before the Eiffel Tower, in Paris, France, the city in which the rebels were the fiercest, for this was their most powerful stronghold. It could not be found, but with Arthur’s help, that would change. Arthur was one of the strongest agents of his time. He had a familiar, making him the first recorded person to have one after forty-three years. It had arrived when he was very young, on his sixth birthday, when his parents were trying to get him to his vegetables when he said that rabbits ate carrots and he most definitely did not, and wha-la! A flying rabbit with spearmint fur appeared, and being a child with limited creativity, he called it Flying Mint Bunny. The name stuck, and now he was with the little friend even to this day. No one else could see it, but there was proof of its existence through the magic scanners, and it helped him with minor retrievals. With his trusty spellbook, he could use the most complicated of Spells and had most Attack and Capture Spells memorized.

This was a different story, though; he wasn’t sure where his job was taking him this time. Some jobs were easy, while others left lasting marks. His former assistant and younger brother, Alfred F. Jones, had been killed in an aeroplane accident while trying to hunt down a Russian serial killer named Ivan Braginsky.

Alfred had failed, even though it cost his life. No body had been recovered, and Ivan had gotten off scot-free. It had left Arthur with a further distaste of the rebels, and he had made the choice to move from his station in London all the way to a place as foreign and as odd as Paris.

The French agency would have been a humble looking building if it weren’t for the magic water fountains. They were lined with silver and the water was a beautiful silver-blue. While Arthur didn’t want to admit it, the French agency had style-what they were lacking was the skill and tenacity required to fight with the rebels. 

Sighing, he walked up to the door and pulled it open. It was the same as every other agency: walls made of marble, black and gold clock upon the central pillar, the waiting chairs against the wall. It was particularly quiet, except for the non-stop clicking of keys as the consular officer at the front desk typed away. Her typing was loud and furious. He walked past her, ignoring the noises. He had an important meeting to get to, and he refused to be late. Nothing would make him late. 

He flipped his gaze down to his stopwatch. Five minutes. He quickened his pace, glad that every agency had the same structure. Meeting room, if he was correct, would be on the right. Quickening his pace, he gently opened the door labelled ‘meeting room’, and opened it to find only two people in the room. Sitting down at the table, he unclipped his pen from his coat and waited for the beginning of the meeting. He was glad to be early, even if it was by a simple four minutes. The man at the head of the table greeted him with a nod, keeping his eyes on his computer, while the other man was asleep. A cat was also sleeping on his shoulder.

Since Arthur was sitting at a square table, and the two men were sitting on opposite sides, he had to infer that they either hated each other or there would only be four people at the meeting. It was rare that the meetings only contained a few people; often they would throw around ideas in a room full of people until they settled on the wisest and most careful ideas. 

The door was pushed open silently, and the very last person arrived, taking his seat on the last side of the table. He was silvery blond and his eyes a dull blue that held the shine of old metal. In his hair was a barrette in the shape of a cross.

“I’m late,” was all he said, but no one reacted. 

“Should we start?” Arthur asked, a bit unnerved by the lack of responses. He pulled out a document of his transfer from his pocket and set it on the table. 

“We can do introductions first,” said the man with the cat. He was awake now, blinking away the tears of sleep, gently moving his cat to his lap. His voice was whispery and low. “My name’s Heracles Karpusi. I was moved from Greece after we crushed their rebellion.” His vibrant green eyes almost felt as if they bore a hole through Arthur, so he looked the other way, to the man at the head of the table. 

“I am Yao Wang, all the way from China.” That was all he said.

“Lukas Bondevik,” the blonde man said roughly. “Norway.” The cross made more sense now, but personally, Arthur would not sport a symbol of his nationality, for fear of being recognized by an enemy.

“Now you have met our triple threat,” Yao said smoothly. “Rebellion is bad in France because no one wants to deal with them. We are the only three who care enough to.”

“The only three who can,” Lukas muttered. “All the others end up dead or traumatized.”

Arthur nearly winced. That was a stabbing, gruelling detail that his employers had painfully left out. He figured why-he had rarely turned down a job, but the ones that he suspected might end like Alfred’s he avoided. He kept his composure, however, and looked at the others expectantly. He faintly wondered what exactly he had agreed to do on the job.

“We must infiltrate the rebels. One of us must gain their trust, while the other three track the rebel’s base, movements, and plans through the messages left for us. We are here to decide what identity to assume and which one of us it should be. Any suggestions or volunteers?” Heracles asked. Arthur judged that Heracles was not going to volunteer himself, and he was correct. The room was quiet. No one wanted to infiltrate the rebels, not unless they had to. The rebels were different everywhere, some more barbaric than others. The French rebels were famous for their punishments. They may have just been rumours, but the rumours were enough to scare away lots of young agents. The silence in the room was deafening, and Arthur could no longer take it. Before he could think of what else he could do- possibly figuring out what identity to assume first, possibly-he blurt out the words that would change his life forever.

“I’ll do it.” He was quiet, almost silent, but they all heard him. They all looked impressed with his bravery, and all were surprised. Even the cat paid attention, lifting his small tawny head to see the foolish agent. Needless to say, as soon as the words were out of his mouth Artur regretted it. There was no going back, he knew it. At least he would see Alfred again soon. Sure, they’d both be dead, but hey! What were the cons?

Arthur had always paid attention. He had always listened and done well in school, yet now, at one of the most important meetings of his life, he was not. He could not. He somehow could not hear what Yao was saying.

He was brought back into the moment by Yao clearing his throat and increased volume. “Arthur, are you listening?”

“Forgive me, no.” He was trying to put on his best manners.

“You need a new identity.”

“I can go by Allistor, I guess.” At this moment, his brother seemed to come to mind. “And I can keep my same appearance.”

“Are you sure?” Lukas asked skeptically. “You haven’t seen them yet. You might know some.” 

Flying Mint Bunny sat on the Brit’s shoulder, trying to give advice that he did not understand. One of these days he’d get around to giving the rabbit some ability to speak English.

Swallowing hard, he tried to find some sort of way to weasel out of this responsibility. “Actually, you’re quite right. I haven’t seen them yet. It’s probably better if you take this case.”

“I guess I can. I’m not sure, though, I’m too well-recognized.” The others said likewise, and at this moment, he knew that he was in very deep trouble with no way to escape. He’d already done things like these, but never in France, not in the most dangerous part of the world for an agent.

As the other three began to talk, Arthur felt their voices fade away. He had been a bloody idiot, trying to save the tension and act as if he was brave. He was done for, no matter what kind of stunt he pulled to get out of it. Avoiding digging his head into the table, he let his muscles release their tension and he frustratedly gritted his teeth.

Flying Mint Bunny hopped onto the table and crawled towards Lukas. To his surprise, Lukas gently pet Flying Mint Bunny’s head and murmured something to it. 

“Can you see him?” Arthur blurted.

Lukas nodded. “He’s very fond of you.” The slightest twinge of amusement almost came to his face, but he shoved it aside and shooed away Flying Mint Bunny with a wave of his hand. 

Rolling his eyes, Yao flicked his pen to the side as Heracles petted his cat. “Can we continue?”

“Yes.” 

Lukas fixed the clip in his hair, which had been falling out of place. “All right, so we have agreed that Arthur is going?” The three of them, nodding, each revealed a file from their pocket and shoved it in my direction. Flying Mint Bunny squeaked at him, and he scowled. 

“There are three suspects we were all supposed to look into,” Heracles whispered. “But we’re-”

“Speak louder, for heaven’s sake!” Lukas took over. “There are three of them, and you’re to spy on one of them. They’re just suspected, but once one is confirmed, your job is to befriend them and then we can finally crush this rebellion.” 

“Which is the easiest?” Arthur asked, feeling as if this were an inappropriate question for the moment. However, he needed it to be answered. 

They all shrugged. “I’d say, Francis Bonnefoy, unless you want to go with Ivan Braginsky or the Albino,” Heracles offered. “Francis is the noble with an estate the size of some nature reserves.”

He was confused but took a note of the last comment. That would be hard to get to and from. “Aren’t Ivan Braginsky and the Albino confirmed rebels?”

“They’re rebels, but we do not know if they’re with the rebellion,” was the answer he received from Yao, who looked as if he just wanted Arthur to take the job and go off to die already. 

Arthur nodded, and Lukas clasped his hands together. “We’re done, then. Good luck, have fun, there’s a note on what kind of flowers you’d like at your-”

“Not now, Lukas. Be quiet.” Heracles, at least, seemed the tiniest bit remorseful, but when he turned his head to look, he found that the Greek was simply trying to sleep.

His head was beginning to hurt, and his stomach was feeling sick. All of his nerves were combining to give him HD visions of what could and probably would be his death. Spots swam before his eyes, but he blinked them away. He was not weak. 

But he took the job anyway because there was nothing he could do. His own fate was no longer in his hands but at the mercy of Francis’s alliance.


	2. Silver Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis and Gilbert should be more responsible, especially when they’re doing illegal things

Being afraid of getting caught red-handed was the least of Francis’s worries. It was the secret that he was not powerful that he was worried about. Every single Bonnefoy in history had been incredibly powerful kings and queens who conquered lands and fought with honour and pride. What did he have? He no longer had Matthew to look after. Soon enough he’d get caught, with no to fight. The Albino was not moving at the moment, and the agents were too busy on the Albino to focus any time on him. Once the agents realized this, he was completely done for. He could not let them turn their attention towards him; he had too much stake, too much that he could not sacrifice. He would have to find a way to pretend that Ivan Braginsky was making an even larger comeback. Perhaps leaving water spouts in places would be effective? They were his trademarks, after all. His “magic metal pipes of pain” were feared in Russia and especially in places like Lithuania and Estonia, where his attacks had been unadulteratedly cruel. 

Shaking his head, he tried to make the best of his time alone. He liked to think outside. Somehow, sitting on the grass under the moonlight helped him to find his quiet place and make good choices. Along with a glass of wine, nothing could go wrong. Only one glass, though. Too much and all the time had would be gone. He had to play it smart. Right next to a nature reserve, his manor was in a good place for the rebels to get to. The agents were not allowed to intrude on his land without a warrant, but he knew they’d find an excuse. He’d tripped up far too many times, only to be saved his magic. Francis was an especially skilled Charms magister; he could convince people very easily with simple words, and it wasn’t limited to face-to-face speech. His power could change the minds of entire crowds, but there were too many in the International Magic Prohibition Program who could block his attacks-if you could call them that. Yes, he knew simple elemental attacks, but he couldn’t conjure the powers that people like Arthur Kirkland or Elizabeta Héderváry could. Everyone knew full well that the rebellion combined could crush one of the agents easily, but getting rid of them all would be a challenge. They’d need help from the inside, which was something they didn’t have, or at least, weren’t aware of.

“If only we had an organized rebellion,” he said frustratedly. Instead, they had a rebellion that was split under different groups. That was why the French rebellion moved so erratically and at the wrong and right times; they had no idea what the other groups were doing. The Axis Powers worked to hijack and destroy the agency bit by bit, while groups like the Northern Five had in all their plans to absolutely decimate the agents. 

This was just about as practical as glasses without lenses. None of this was making any sense, either, and none of the pieces fit into place. Francis sighed and glared up towards the moon, nearly full. 

“There is nothing I can do!” he told the sky, trying to comfort himself. 

“There’s plenty you can do,” said a familiar voice. It was one of his best friends, Gilbert Beilschmidt, in his best nature. He had magic deficiency syndrome, a syndrome that caused his magic to fluctuate in strength. Sometimes he was so powerful he had to go to Francis to ask to be held back, while other times he was so weak that the syndrome sapped at his strength. “You can consult the awesome me!” 

Francis could not hold back the grin that came upon his face. Being part of the rebellion, oftentimes he did not have time to talk with his friends. “What awesome advice do you have for me?”

“Don’t get caught, obviously, and especially not by Arthur.” 

“Wow. What great advice. I feel so inspired,” Francis said sarcastically. “What more of your wisdom could I need?” 

“That is all you get for today.” Gilbert turned to go inside Francis’s house, as he was welcome anytime), but he paused. “Anyway, I was wondering if you would be willing to cover for me when the Axis Powers go out to give the agents’ armoury a power outage tomorrow.”

“I can’t, Gilbert. It’s not safe.” 

He laughed. “Being here is not safe. Our ideals are not safe. Wanting freedom-even that is not safe. Do you have a real excuse?”

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“Thank you. Don’t be a coward!” He smiled wider and lifted his eyes to the moon. 

Francis shrugged and took another sip of his wine. “Too late. We’re all cowards.”

“Fair point. Some of us are braver than others, but no one has actually thrown themselves to the agents. Except for people like Ivan. He just straight-up charges at them.” 

Ivan was considered the bravest of the rebels because of the fact he was running alone. The few rebels had that were alone almost never made it out alive. Ivan was a different story; most didn’t like his methods, but it was often admitted that he was definitely iconic.

When Francis didn’t respond, Gilbert just nodded and left. He went inside the house while Francis stayed and sat under the soft light, full of worries. At least he was good at hiding it. 

That night, Francis couldn’t sleep. It was too hard to sleep with all the intrusive thoughts he had about the agents. He was the most afraid of Yao Wang, who was known for his cold treatment towards the rebels he did find. Yao was more clever than powerful, yet responsible for the deaths of powerful rebels like the infamously blunt Kiku Honda, who had been able to short-circuit the tech in buildings with a single thought and channel electricity as if it were a fun game. He had been skilled in many areas-being able to create illusions and bring art to life were powers that had been coveted by many, but he mastered them as easily as a child mastered making magical sparks. But he was dead, a large blow to the Axis Powers, who would surely fall without him. 

He shook his head clear of those thoughts and rolled over. If he had to force himself to sleep, he would. It wouldn’t have been the first time anyway. Through his determination to doze off, his goal was finally achieved after his cat Louis climbed into his arms and lay down, forcing him to assume the exact position until sleep finally came. 

\-------------------

“Wake up!” 

Francis was rudely jolted out of sleep by Gilbert, who was slapping him in the face without inflicting damage. “Go away...” he murmured, knowing that Gilbert was immune to his charms. 

“Wake up, Francis!” Then Gilbert began to yell insults that would’ve offended him if they hadn’t been friends, so Francis got up and countered all of his insults. They almost began to argue, but then Gilbert remembered what he had so fervently wanted to tell Francis. 

He excitedly clapped his hands together. “I found this!” Digging around his pockets, he fished a badge out. 

It was easy to recognize; every rebel knew that golden crest well. “Gilbert, that’s an agent’s badge!” 

He smirked, proud of himself. “Ja! I can sell this!” 

“Gilbert!” he shrieked, angry and in a panic.

“What?”

Groaning, Francis forced his brain to work and be angry at Gilbert. “This is not a good thing! Where did you get that?”

“Outside by the river!” 

Francis told him to leave and think about what he’d done, but he used stronger words than that, probably something he wouldn’t dare to ever repeat again. He had gotten caught up in the moment and suddenly his day was ruined. Why did Gilbert have to be so stupid sometimes? It wasn’t as if Gilbert could help it, though. Stupidity and lack of common sense was just something that he really needed to work on. 

He got ready for the day, ate his breakfast, and then went to the riverside. There was no sign of a scuffle, no reason that an agent should’ve lost their badge. He remained wary, though, and brought a concealed gun with him. No matter how well he searched for troubles, there seemed to be nothing wrong with the world today.

The suspense that followed him through the day was torture. Everything was far too normal for him to bear. Trying to shake off the feeling of being watched, he confined himself to the inside of his house and made checks on the servants. There was an especially cheeky one who gave him a little bit of sass, even after he had filled the kitchen with smoke.

“What do you mean you were making tea?” he asked frustratedly as he ordered everyone to open the windows. 

“I gave you the bloody answer! What more could you want?”

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Allistor,” he said sourly. He looked like a adult with his head straight, but any common adult would know how to make tea without nearly burning down the kitchen. 

Francis sighed. “Well, Allistor, I was hoping that you would be more careful. Please note you are no longer welcome in the kitchen anymore.” 

Despite his infuriated expression, Allistor simply nodded his head stiffly and curtly walked off to receive some other assignment. 

Now Allistor was working with the embroidery on some of the tapestries; he was actually skilled with the needle and working with expertise and finesse. The others were admiring his handiwork, surprised that this sixteen-year-old had skills they hadn’t considered to be in his field. Since Francis and the silver man sat next to them, he had to assume they were keeping an eye on him. It was almost torture because they were teasing the agents, almost every single one of them. 

“Remember Arthur Kirkland? Well, West told me that he almost got caught with a package of illegal rifles but he walked right past them!” Allistor continued to embroider, hiding his salty rage as they talked about him. Once he got out of this stupid disguise, he’d condemn them both. All he had to do was get it back to the agency and they would make the moves, though he wished it was him doing it. 

“Really? Gilbert, I don’t believe it.” Francis snickered, smirking. 

“Yeah, like that guy can see past his eyebrows!” 

They were trying to hold back their laughter, and Allistor gritted his teeth. This was embarrassing, but he paid the best attention he could. They lowered their voices. 

“...the Minister, wanting to…”

“...can’t do that, Francis, no, that would mean…”

Flying Mint Bunny flew around them, gathering intelligence. The bright mint fur stood out very clearly against their background and they nearly looked comical. He had to pray that the rabbit remembered what its job was this time because last time it had not, which was shameful. The only reason he got out of that one was that one of the other agents he was with had been hiding in the air vents and heard it all. 

He turned his mind to the present and glanced sideways towards Gilbert and Francis. If they thought they could get away with this on his watch, they had another thing coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this one feels like filler to me, but it at least establishes some stuff. Next chapter should have a little more action.


	3. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lukas is unimpressed like usual

Arthur returned to the French agency full of triumph and in his regular form. It was already nighttime, and he hadn’t expected to see anyone, but he had still gone to enter the information. Lukas was there, though, so he decided he’d prove himself to at least one member.

“I did it, Lukas!” he said proudly. “Francis is a rebel!”

The Norwegian stared at him, balancing three books too many in his arms. “Good job.” He walked away, so Arthur matched followed him. 

“I don’t get any other instructions?”

“None of us get instructions. We do things ourselves.” He entered his office room and set the books down on the table. “I need to do some studying, so get out, please.”

“It’s late,” Arthur said, a little confused. “And what do you mean by studying?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Well, no, of course not! I just meant that it’s not really standard to work overtime when you don’t need to-”

Arthur’s words seemed to put him in a bad mood. His eyes narrowed, shining silvery-grey. “Look, my life doesn’t concern you, all right? I’ve got a predicament at home. So leave me alone and you can go bother Heracles in the morning.” 

“Oh-I see.” He passively stepped out of the room and closed the door. Everyone was either too uptight or hated him. He’d messed up this time. Lukas probably liked Flying Mint Bunny better than him. But who didn’t, to be honest? Yao was very closed-up about his emotions, while Heracles was probably too sleepy to realize he had them. 

Arthur thought it would be wrong to say that he was rich, but he kind of was. He’d bought an apartment in Paris, had very well-polished houses in the UK, Germany, America, India, and Canada, and could afford the best of things. It was to be expected from him, though; he had solved many mysteries and shut down the forces of the Axis Powers before, but he had never had fights where he’d been outnumbered. He simply led, but he did not fight, especially not losing battles. 

However, it did feel like he was fighting a losing battle at this certain agency. At the old one, he’d had help and higher ups he could look to. Here everyone was cold and unwilling to share time. 

He’d still rather be in Paris, though, because there was nothing to remind him of Alfred.

He made himself a cup of tea when he got to his apartment and settled down. He had no appetite for dinner and wished that he’d chosen a shift that took up less of his time. However, he at least had to try and sneak in all of the espionage time he could-since Allistor was supposedly in college, he couldn’t work all the time. 

Every moment spent in Francis’s presence had been nerve-wracking, and maybe tomorrow would be easier. He fell asleep with thoughts of a peaceful workplace in mind. 

\----------

He was late. Of course he was; he’d overslept and been unable to skip his morning tea. Flying Mint Bunny had also been rather annoying; it had messed with his tea and spilt it. It was partially its fault he had been late. Throwing open the doors to the agency, he ran to the meeting room and sat down in his seat. Somehow he had beaten Lukas; the Norwegian was late once more, but Yao and Heracles were already here. He was frustrated with his lateness, but no one said anything of it. 

Lukas came in, quiet as ever, saying nothing of his situation. Arthur had so many questions about his life, but now was not the time to ask. There was probably never going to be the time to ask. 

Yao started the meeting. “I have work to do, Heracles-”

“I have to work on my missions reports,” he interrupted, more awake than ever. “I have five of them.”

“Fair enough,” the Chinese man said, nodding. 

Dejectedly, Lukas scowled. “It’s me again? I have the armoury duty?” 

“Yes. Take Arthur with you. You will be a better teacher than me, I know for sure.” 

Arthur watched as Lukas bitterly glared at Yao, who pretended he didn’t see him and continued to go on about ‘armoury duty’. If it sounded like it was, they would be guarding weapons. 

It was not as it seemed. Lukas threw on his coat and beckoned for Arthur to hurry after him. The wind was ferocious that morning; Arthur left his hat at the agency for fear of losing it. 

“Where is the armoury?”

“Just up the street, so we have it at our disposal. The rebels can’t seem to take a hint.” He said nothing else as they made their way to the armoury. 

Right away, Arthur began to brainstorm ways to confront Lukas about things without potentially offending him. He could invite him for tea or talk about his own life until Lukas opened up. Already was Flying Mint Bunny gaining his affections, now Arthur had to earn it. The rabbit was loved by everyone, but Arthur was not, forcing him to come to the realization that he travelled with the rabbit, not the other way around.

The armoury, though it was rundown from the outside, was firm and well-established on the inside. “No one’s working,” he noticed. “Is that what we’re doing?”

“No, we’re just defending it so no rebels try to take the supplies. That’s it. They come every single time, so just wait for them.” He patted the cross in his hair twice and turned towards Arthur. “You can use any of the supplies, but the job is to make sure they don’t get the weapons.”

Arthur scoffed. Fighting was easy for him, especially one-on-one combat. He surveyed his surroundings, aware of all the advantages around him. There were some crates stacked in the corner and the furnace could be a good place to set a trap while he could run some spells and enchantments by the doors. Lukas wasn’t doing anything important like Arthur was. He was sitting atop the crates and staring out the window, face blank and body relaxed. 

As Arthur began to prep the spells, Lukas called to him. “Why are you doing that?”

“I’m getting ready for the rebels. What did you think I was doing?”

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” He jumped down and tossed a folder at Arthur, sighing. “Use this time to study your surroundings instead. We’re going to be here all day.”

As it always seemed to be, Lukas was right. Lukas had done nothing but lay atop the crates for five hours petting Flying Mint Bunny and playing with his magic. When Arthur confronted him about it, he simply shrugged and told him to wait.

Suddenly, while Arthur was trying to get Flying Mint Bunny to come back to him and fly away from Lukas, the agent jumped to his feet, drawing a gun from his jacket. “I’ll get to the supply room.”

“I’ll-”

“You’ll stay here,” he said carefully. 

He departed, fixing his barrette once again. Arthur couldn’t help but notice he checked to make sure he was not followed.

Spells fluttered through his head, and he focused on the door in front of him. 

A force slammed against it, and he readied himself for a fight. 

There was a gentle pattering against the door, and an Italian accented voice whined, “It’s locked! What do we do now?!” 

There was muffled arguing, then the door was kicked down by a powerful man with a gun. Without the hesitation he’d seen so often, they rushed in, ignoring Arthur, who felt as if he was in a trance. The door was still in the motion of falling-how was that possible? 

The wind rushed past his ears as the door hit the ground. 

One of them controlled time. 

Arthur chased after them, but they split off into separate directions. He didn’t stop to think which he needed to turn, just ran after the Italian man. He had a bet that this one was in control of time. 

In the midst of his dash, the Italian man stopped and suddenly put his hands up. “I surrender!” he said sincerely. 

Arthur’s breath hitched. Rebels didn’t just surrender. They fought until they were beaten down enough, or until they were killed. They were reckless with their magic and this was just another example of it. 

He carefully threw down an anti-magic charm and whispered its activation chant. 

The Italian man was complacent as he was marched out of the building. Not just complacent, but a bit aloof, too. 

“There’s no death penalty for what I did, right? Because I surrendered?” 

Arthur thought for a moment. He surrendered, which would lower his sentence, but that wasn’t exactly enough to get him out of a death sentence. “That’s up to the judge to decide.” 

“What kind of chances do I have?”

“Not very high, I suppose.” 

That was the end of discussion.

\---------

Lukas had been stupid. He’d let Ludwig open his mouth, and now the burns on his arms were slowing him down. He parried with spells against the new flames until his breath began to quicken.

With a cry, Ludwig summoned more flames, until the room was consumed with blazing light. The windows shattered as the walls began to melt, and the old roof began to groan. He could not panic, he would not allow himself to panic, even if fire was one of his greatest fears. He was afraid of fire, but all the years in the agency had taught him he could not be afraid of death. He would stop the Axis Powers.

There was no chance the rebel had any more power left in his stock. Lukas charged him and tackled him to the ground, aware of the time limit the smoke gave him, but Ludwig was more powerful than him in muscle and resolve, and Lukas began to regret his decisions. The German flipped their dynamics and roughly pinned him, slamming his head against the ground. There was nothing he could do as he was beaten by the rebel. There was a pause in the pain, and suddenly the wind was knocked out of him. He coughed without air, and his lungs felt paralyzed by the blow.

There were other problems at hand. Ludwig stood above him, and Lukas felt his ankle snap. 

The rebel darted out of the room through the window, unaffected by the cruel fire he had set upon the armory. 

Lukas coughed as the smoke began to choke his lungs. The door had caught ablaze, too, and his muscles were aching. Could he even bring himself to stand?

No, he couldn’t allow himself to die here. Emil was waiting for him back at home. Emil was counting on him. He brought his shaky hand up to the cross in his hair. He was betraying his promises. 

Why did it matter, though? Who would go out of their way to watch out for him? Yao wouldn’t. Yao never cared about anything but power. Heracles never showed a care about anything. There was no who was here for him.

The fire focused and unfocused as the lack of oxygen began to twist his reality. It was too late. 

With the last of his resolve gone, Lukas closed his eyes, ready to give up. It was so hot all around, and for a moment, he thought he heard a voice calling out to him. 

“Lukas!” 

He managed to open his eyes just as Arthur picked him up.

Maybe someone was watching out for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hyped up Arthur's powers but then completely failed. I don't know how he uses his powers because I started this a year ago and to be frank my memory is bad. Also I'll update slowly since I only have a rough idea of its plot


	4. The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finally thinks for once

Arthur rushed out of the armory as it began to explode. He pulled up a shield just as shrapnel flew past them. The heat of the wind threatened to overthrow his magic, but his strength held through the climax of the blast. Flying Mint Bunny clung tightly to his shirt.

That was far too close of a brush with death, Arthur thought as he moved Flying Mint Bunny to his shoulder. He’d barely gotten out in time because he decided to side track for Lukas. He stalled his breathing, realizing that his heart was having palpitations. This was no time to have an anxiety attack. 

Lukas shifted in his arms. “Please release me,” he deadpanned, as if his burns meant nothing to him. They probably didn’t, he was too proud to let wounds slow him down. 

Nothing he wouldn’t expect from Lukas, who pushed him off forcibly despite the heat still emanating from the armory. 

He stood and stretched, his wounds closing over until his pale skin was as untouched as ever. Carefully, he fixed the cross in his hair, but he was trembling as he did it. His fingers lingered over it for just a moment before he brought his hand down. 

“You ought to go home and file a damage report about this,” he said, walking away. 

A very cold wind followed after him, and Arthur could do nothing but watch him leave. He decided to go home. The city police would arrive soon enough anyway.

It was one heck of a damage report. Arthur spent the rest of his day struggling to fill out the paper while Flying Mint Bunny offered words of encouragement. It didn’t matter that the paper was in his native English(he had no knowledge of other languages because spells were a luxury of his)-it was plain confusing. This wasn’t something he used to, either. This was assistant’s work. This was something Alfred would do for him. 

Everything felt harder since Alfred had died. He had been trying not to think about it, but now that he was all alone with his thoughts, he could see it all. Moving in had felt so foreign, lonelier than it had ever been before. Of course it had-he was truly alone.

He didn’t want to be alone anymore, but no matter how hard he wished, he couldn’t convince himself that any of it would change. 

Flying Mint Bunny was trying to make him feel better by bringing him a strawberry. 

“Not right now,” he muttered, pushing the small rabbit away. It stayed where it was but moved no closer to him.

His mind felt fuzzy and warped. Why had Alfred gotten into the plane? He had been doing some reconnaissance. No, no, that wasn’t his job, that couldn’t be right. Then obviously he had been transporting something. That sounded better; that was satisfactory. Alfred had been moving some kind of prized object during their mission when his plane failed. 

Alfred had died when his plane failed. 

Alfred was dead. His little brother was dead, and he wasn’t coming back. 

But why did he feel like he was forgetting something? Alfred had been alone when he died, right? 

No, Alfred never went anywhere alone…

But who was it that always went with him? He couldn’t remember the name, couldn’t even see a shadow of their face, or of their voice. It was all a piercing headache. 

Arthur ran a shaky hand through his hair. It was too stressful; it was making him sick. Sleep would fix this. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. His head needed to be cleared. On his nightstand stood a bottle of pills, the ones the higher ups had given him after Alfred’s funeral. They’d understood he’d struggle being in a new place. At least someone understood, out of all the people in this accursed world. 

Taking deep breaths, he grabbed a glass of water as he examined the container. A shiny white label riddled with words he didn’t know and would never be able to say, issued to him by his boss after the death of Alfred. That was exactly what he needed right now, and the only thing he wanted. He swallowed two and went to sleep. 

That was all he had wanted.

When he awoke, his head was clear. Flying Mint Bunny was precariously perched on his doorknob, as if he had been trying to protect him from anything that might come inside. He gently beckoned the little rabbit in his arms and sighed. 

He had full faith that Flying Mint Bunny would fight for him in any situation; he just hoped it would never come to that. 

Sadly, he had to go to Francis’s house today. What an absolute disappointment. He didn’t want to go back to that stupid Frenchman’s mansion. The audacity of that man! And yet they had done nothing to arrest him. Come to think of it, he should’ve told Yao instead of Lukas. Lukas never did anything. Yao was always in the action, always working on something bigger than everyone else. 

Even during the armoury’s fire, Lukas had lain down, willing to die without at least fighting. He had magic. Why didn’t he use it? Was he afraid of it? There was no reason to be afraid of magic. It was powerful, yes, even terrifying at the worst, but it was the beck and call of its master. At least, it always felt like it was. 

It always felt like it was. 

He ignored his thoughts and put on civilian’s clothing-a somewhat formal dress shirt and tie that could pass. But he needed his badge, as he always did. 

“Flying Mint Bunny, have you seen my badge?” 

The small rabbit jumped onto his shoulder and nodded its head. 

“Where?” 

It flew over to his calendar and pointed to the date two days ago. 

Sighing, he beckoned for the familiar to come back. “It’s alright,” he assured the animal, who had begun to chirp sadly. 

It was work time, and he forgot about his stress the night before. The thundering rain pouring down helped him to forget. The lightning flashed across the sky, and Arthur could see it strike the dam across the river. 

The Louve Dam was going to have a lot to handle today. The rain was only getting worse and the lightning was relentless. Perhaps it was a spell-it had come so suddenly. 

He swallowed his fear as the mansion came into a foggy kind of view, hidden by the rain, but illuminated by the brilliance of the lightning. 

Flying Mint Bunny had no opinion of the day’s mood and flew past Arthur and into the house. 

Arthur just needed a tiny pep talk. “I am as powerful as a nation. I can do this. I can’t let myself lose to a frog like him. I can prove myself useful on the front.” He smiled, brimming with confidence. All he needed was some finesse to match his bravery.

Ready for the ordeal, he rushed into the mansion and knocked, only to be met by Francis Bonnefoy himself, who began to speak. Arthur silenced him with a flourish of his hand and took the treasured letter out of his pocket.

“For you, sir.”

Francis stared at the letter as Allistor presented it to him. It was from Arthur Kirkland, and it had been something he had dreaded. He knew that name rather well, and wondered if his taunting from two days ago had made its way around. Of course, it was only logical that the agents would come for him next. After all, they’d already sent Im Yong Soo, an eastern noble, to his death.

All of the plans he’d made with Gilbert flitted through his thoughts. Stay calm. Do not use magic until it is completely necessary. 

He kept eye contact with the Englishman. “And what is this?” 

Allistor did not back down. “It was in the mailbox. Wouldn’t want it to be damaged, of course.” 

“I don’t have a mailbox.” 

Still, he did not back down. “Or wherever the mail is delivered.” 

A short pause of staring. “You went into my office?”

Denial flashed across the Englishman’s face. “Of course not!”

With a sigh of disappointment and fatigue, Francis took the envelope. “What does it say?” he asked, turning it over. No sign of a charm on the exterior, so whatever was inside it must be the danger to him. Whether it lay in words or magic was the mystery. 

“I don’t know,” Allistor lied. “But it’s for you and no one else.” Well, if that didn’t sound suspicious.

Francis took it from him and put it in his pocket. “I’ll open it elsewhere, thank you.” He beckoned for Allistor to follow him. “Isn’t the rain rather harsh today?”

“Anyone might say that, I suppose.” Allistor had no choice but to follow him. If he wanted his plan to work, he absolutely needed to be there as the letter was opened. Otherwise the spell wouldn’t activate, and he’d probably end up dead in the river the next morning. 

“We should take a walk down to the river. Have you ever seen it in the rain?” He ran a hand through his pretty blonde hair and smiled charmingly at Allistor. Not so desperate to use magic, but he did feel that he was desirable either way. 

Allistor thought about his answer. This had to be a trap, obviously, but what would happen if he declined? 

“It’s absolutely safe,” the Frenchman promised, “even in a storm. Do you think I’m clueless about my own property?” 

“It’s not the owner’s job to survey his own land.” 

Francis clicked his tongue. Cheeky today, were we? He’d have to step up his game to get out of this one. 

Good thing he knew how to adapt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments encourage me to update, so those are nice.


	5. The River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the lads are dumb (as always). they have a lovely walk to the river :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really short but I had to pump it out. I hate this scene but bear with my sucky writing. It's been like six months. I just never got around to transcribing it out of my notebook, but I'm getting to the more exciting stuff.

“Come along,” Francis said aggressively, beckoning at the door. “You’re my servant, aren’t you? Listen to me.” 

Well, if he did go, at least Flying Mint Bunny could snoop anywhere he’d wish without mercy; to take down a man with such influence was going to take a lot of evidence and tact. He could always trust his little friend to know what to do in a pinch. 

So out into the rain they trudged, Francis with an umbrella in hand, and Arthur with...nothing. And no, he was not going to try and share the umbrella with the idiot Frenchman. 

From here, Arthur could see the river, and it wasn’t quite the sight he had been hoping to see. The water led from the dam, deep and turbulent, its depths hidden by its murkiness. 

“Are you sure this is a good time to be out?” he yelled.

“It’s fine!” was the response, and Arthur lost all sense of security he had once had. 

Surprisingly, he did not feel very safe, but he complied, trying to recall all of his restriction and capture spells. He would gladly admit that spying was not his forte. His magic was powerful but more suited to boost the strengths of his allies. He tried not to use his wide variety of attack spells-they were too destructive. 

The rain continued to pour, dripping into the back of his shirt, as Francis had tilted the umbrella backward. Or maybe it was the wind. It didn’t matter; he was a bastard either way. While he did want to limit their contact as much as possible, he at least wanted to keep his head from getting wet-it made him look ridiculous. 

He groaned internally once the Frenchman turned around. Somehow, someway, perhaps through God’s divine intervention, he had remained immaculate. There was just an air of confidence to him that made him so sickeningly attractive. It was disgusting, honestly. 

“We’re here!” he said, his voice pleasant, a stark contrast to the dark environment. 

He put a gentle hand on Arthur’s shoulder and led him slowly to the edge of the river. 

“Now watch as…” his voice faltered for a moment, and he tightened his grip on Arthur’s shoulder. “...the water-” 

A lightning bolt split through the darkness, and thunder shattered the glass that was the sky.  
Both men jumped at it, all their nerves on high alert. 

Arthur sighed, trying to hide his shaking hands. 

It was then that he noticed the rumbling hadn’t stopped. 

It was then that he noticed that an alarm was beginning to blare. 

The rumbling continued as Arthur tilted his head to watch another lightning bolt illuminate the cracking dam. 

He turned to Francis, ready to accuse him, but he looked just as shocked, his blue eyes wide as the moon. This hadn’t been in his plan.

Francis grabbed his hand. “Stay calm. Don’t think.” 

His words made Arthur shiver. His whole body felt electric, but his muscles were relaxed, his mind foggy. Right. He was meant to be calm, it would all be okay-

The magnitude of the situation awoke his senses, and he threw his body against Francis’s.

“I’m going to kill you,” he hissed, panic giving way to anger. 

“We have time,” Francis cried out, jumping back to his feet. “Look, it’s not broken, we have enough time to-”

His words were cut off by the complete and total collapse. 

The first to gain his wits was Francis, who lunged at Arthur was unprecedented speed and ferocity, knocking them both to the ground. 

“Stop moving! Just stay still!” It was no longer a suggestion, it was a full command, and Arthur froze. 

He could hear the water rushing over the land, emptying itself into the swollen river. 

Despite the fear, he couldn’t move. 

This is where I die, he thought desperately. I’m going to drown here.

The water was right there. 

“Stay still,” came the command again, but it was even stronger than before. “Just hold onto me.” 

He wrapped an arm around Arthur, and he could feel the fearful pounding of his heart. 

The cold water hit them with the intensity of a brick wall, and they were nearly separated by the impact had it not been for their tight grip on each other. 

He couldn’t breathe. He had barely had enough time to process the dam’s breaking. The wind had been knocked out of him. His chest got tighter and tighter, and the cold water around was barely keeping him conscious. Magic was useless here. 

His vision became spotty. 

His force of will gave out, and everything went numb.


	6. Deep Ravine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the lads have a chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone left me kudos and i was instantly stabbed with the responsibility knife. anyways sorry for more of the speaking parts. also disintegrate me and my terrible attempts at humor

Francis contemplated his options. 

One, he could try to break a deal with this very obvious spy. He had the money, his blood money, of course, to ensure a quiet mouth. The only problem was that Arthur was most likely a lawful man, one who followed rules to a fault. 

And two, he could just kill him. Unfortunately, he had no discrete methods of performing the act. He didn’t have an air shot or poison on him, and not even a knife to make the kill. Maybe he could muster the strength under the raw willpower of dehydration if they really did get lost. Not to mention that abandoning him wasn’t even an option, as he had spells to help himself in those tricky situations. 

But thirdly(his favorite one!), he could pray to God that this was just a very confused look-alike of Arthur, who had no idea what was going on. 

He was still praying for that third one because it wasn’t safe to be one hundred percent sure of anyone’s identities nowadays. Who knew? Maybe English fashion and bushy eyebrows were popular with the kids. 

Speaking of the devil, the bastard began to stir. He stretched and blinked confusedly for a couple of moments before tilting his head upwards in realization. 

“I’m not dead?” he questioned, eyes wide in shock. 

Francis laughed, very tired and very cold. “I sure wish we were!”

Arthur scowled, ignoring him. With a little huff, he sat up, surveying his surroundings. His green eyes flashed as he took in the sight-moonlight pouring down the steep cliff walls, verdant trees casting shadows over the drop. 

His voice became a little more serious. “Where are we?” 

“It’s complicated,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. 

His voice became more serious. “I think you already know I’m willing to listen.” 

Francis decided it was a good time to test the waters. “Am I in trouble?” he baited, trying to elicit a positive reaction from him. He had no weapon, no chance to win against a spellcaster. Of course, a spellcaster’s best weapon was their book of spells, but no agent passed their exams just to rely on a book. 

It was in his best interest to play the role of a sad, rich man forced to use his money for an anti-government organization. 

His heart sank as Arthur’s eyebrows shot upwards in surprise. “You-you knew?”

Francis bit his lip to stop himself from laughing, but he couldn’t stop the smirk. “So you’re a dumbass as well, I see.” 

He rolled his eyes, once again ignoring Francis. “Would you like to tell me where we are?” 

Francis clasped his hands together. “Of course. Ever the businessman. Well, as part of the one percent entitled to magic, you’d know what an enchanted map is and how to use it.” 

“Continue…”

“I used it. To move to a new location.” 

“Ah, a good move.” 

“I lost it.” 

Silence fell over the two men. 

“Do you jest, good sir?” Arthur asked, but it didn’t really sound like a question. “Answer wisely.”

Francis cast his head down in shame. “The world is a stage, and I am the fool.” 

Arthur’s previous amusement turned into anger. “How could you just do that? A random location? Are you kidding me? Have you no talent? No sense of-”

“I should’ve let us both drown then!”

“A better fate than this,” he mocked, crossing his arms. 

Despite the irritating behavior of his now-confirmed spy and agent Arthur Kirkland, he still needed security. He had been committing crimes behind the back of the government, sometimes boldly feigning innocence with his wallet in his hand. He had been smart-he made sure none of his tax expenses came short. The government had trusted him, in terms of money. 

If he was going to be arrested, he’d need to send a message to someone trustworthy, to try and deposit all his ones, then order a raid on all his homes, to take his masses of jewelry and the gold-

“I was thinking,” Arthur interjected, “that we could strike a deal.” His words were slow and deliberate as if he was also trying to think on the spot. “We have very good reason to believe you are helping the rebellion, and I have been given authority to bring you in if I deem you guilty.”

So they had already known. “Right.” 

“However, your charming tactics are going to make this a little harder.”

Not really, he thought, but of course, he wasn’t going to say that. “I’ll hear your ideas, then.” 

The Brit continued, albeit slowly. “I want to keep my job, so I will have to take you with me. So here’s my deal-I’ll say I chased after you, and then you have your friends save you. So I’m not lying, and you’ll be fine.”

He shook his head furiously. “I...no, you can’t possibly try that.” 

“Then how do you confirm your safety and my clean record?”

“Just say I charmed you and ran away! We’re stuck down here anyway!”

“I wouldn’t make it past a truth test, idiot!” Arthur yelled. 

Ferocity crept into Francis’s voice. “Why would you care if I escape or not? You’ll continue to do your job either way!” 

He wouldn’t spare rebel forces just to come and save him. One of their priorities was to limit the contact between them and the agents as much as possible. Be silent, be unseen until they were in the right position. If any of them were caught, it could be over in half a moment. 

Arthur averted his eyes. What had that been? Guilt? Maybe even sadness? How could a man make an entire career out of persecution only to begin stepping backward? There was no chance of survival or growth in that situation, only slow deterioration until all the safe barriers of ignorance had fallen, and he realized the truth to his actions. It was a conflict not many survived. 

“There’s a lot of stress in the government. Turmoil over whether or not all of the civil unrest can be contained; we can’t just order a mass genocide of the guilty, and there’s not enough prison space for it.” He paused for a moment but continued. “I’ve also stopped agreeing with many of my executives.” 

The pain rang true in his voice, and Francis couldn’t ignore the bitterness that washed over him. He understood that pain very well, to the point that he was almost scornful an agent could feel the same way. He’d lost so many good people to the unjust system, too many to be measured by any value or worth. 

How had he lived with his guilt, knowing what he was doing was inexcusable? How many lives had he herded into the mercy of the higher-ups without a second thought? 

Once again, the silence was heavy and daunting, the immovable wall of unfamiliarity. 

“Let’s sleep,” Francis murmured. “We’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“How can I trust that you won’t try to strangle me in my sleep?”

Francis glared at him. “Let’s sleep on the mutual agreement that we are fully willing to kill the other under any circumstances.” 

“Fine. But don’t think I won’t hesitate to kill you if the time comes, you frog.” He huffed and tilted his head upward. 

Francis lay down on the cold ground, trying to use mind tricks to convince himself he was in his warm, probably-destroyed-by-now house. Oh, how he now resented the river that helped him smuggle rebels in and out of the city. 

He tried to ignore the thoughts by staring up at the moon, but to no avail. Two hours later, he remained paralyzed by all of the conflict he had caused(possibly himself). He worried about his cat Louis, mostly. Maybe the servants, but he assumed they had time to get out before anything bad actually happened. 

He chewed on his lip nervously, giving a stray glance at Arthur. He appeared to be asleep, but he had his back turned. 

Whatever. If the Brit could sleep, so could he. 

He took a deep breath and imagined a quiet evening spent with a book in his hand and a cat on his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna try to make the next one extra long


End file.
